


Tame

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Adam (2009), Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Pusher (Refn Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Nigel is good with kids, One Big Family, Oral Sex, Protective Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Smitten Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Spacedogs, Spoilers for Pusher II, Starts where Pusher II ended, Tonny is a mess, Tonny is awestruck by Aiden, Tonny is in denial, adam loves nigel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: “Excuse me sir, but your baby is very loud,” an unfamiliar voice disrupted the chaos in Tonny's head.Tonny jerked, turned, and saw a slightly shorter man standing behind him. His eyes were blue as the summer sky, his skin was pale, smooth, and his chestnut, waved hair was neatly combed to the side. Over a perfectly ironed shirt and pants, the man was wearing a dark-green apron with a name tag that readADAM.Even with the door right behind him, Tonny felt cornered. “Fuck you,” he lashed at the man as he held the baby tighter in his arms. “I know that, don't I?”**When the inconsolable crying of his infant son forces Tonny off of the bus, he finds himself in a small village where the local corner-shop is run by a most extraordinary duo; Adam and Nigel.As they jump to help Tonny take care for his hungry baby, Tonny struggles to figure out why these two men have such an 'oddly intimate' dynamic. That is before he meets the third member of the household; Aiden, who makes him question things about himself he never dared to question before.
Relationships: Aiden (Blood and Chocolate)/Tonny (Pusher), Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Comments: 31
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

The little boy had slept in Tonny's arms for a while, rocked by the jostling bus and soothed by the hum of the engine. But he had woken when the sun had started to set, and started to cry almost instantly from hunger and discomfort. That was over twenty minutes ago. 

Tonny couldn't get him to quiet down. 

His infant son just couldn't be silenced as he wailed and thrashed and wriggled restlessly in his puffy, powder-blue ski-suit. His round face was red, and his toothless mouth was gaping wide or pursing unhappily with searching little lips. Tonny tried to rock him, clueless of what to do.

Darkening fields and trees passed outside the window, but people only stared at him, mumbling, judging or outright complaining. Tonny didn't look back to see their annoyed faces. All he did was hold the baby best he could, as he watched the unfamiliar world pass by.

“Shh, lille en,” he mumbled, his voice barely rising over his son's loud protests. His hand was supporting the baby's bottom, and the diaper felt heavy against Tonny's palm. He stank of what must be baby poop. 

“Just a little longer.”

The child had gone from modest prattling to full-blown screams in very little time, and Tonny felt his own heart hammering in his ears as he watched the little boy's face dampening with sweat.

He had to get off this bus.

Unfortunately, the stops on this line were few and far between, and Tonny had no idea where he was going. He was just driving. Away. He was leaving Copenhagen, knowing what was behind him and not a single idea what was ahead.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, as one free hand rubbed over his own, stubbled head. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing anymore.

All he knew was he was running. He was fleeing his home, the police, familiar faces... and he had snatched up his son, unwilling to leave him behind with that neglecting crack whore of a mother.

And now he had no fucking idea what he was doing. He had never been far from Copenhagen before... but he knew for certain he could never go back. The only thing to go back for was jail, which in truth was the last of his worries. He had killed his father. He had killed the Duke. There was more and worse after him than fucking blue uniforms.

He needed to hide.

Tonny sniffed, wiping his empty nose with his fingers as he ached for a line of coke. His head was hurting, and his hand were shaking. He had to find himself some real shit later.

Or quit, and not be a fucking addict of a father.

Fuck.

“Shhh,” he tried to hush the little boy. “I'll find you food,” he promised him, but the baby on his lap was now screeching like a possessed demon. “Milk, OK?” he said, almost unable to hold the wriggling kid on his lap. “I'll find you fucking milk.”

He may have fathered a child, but Tonny knew jack shit about babies, diapers or bottles, and he almost felt himself choking with the pressure that tightened his throat. Panic.

He didn't know what to do.

“Would you silence your child?” an elderly lady gnawed from behind him. Other voices joined with mumbled agreement. Tonny didn't turn. It wouldn't do to get in more trouble than he was already in. To draw even more attention to the spotlights of screams that was already on them.

He would just have to get off the fucking bus.

At last, the vehicle slowed, and Tonny looked outside. Few houses, some fields, lots of trees. A smaller village than any of the previous stops had brought him. Nothing he was familiar with, but conveniently obscure. He would get off here, find what he needed for his son, and then a place to stay for the night.

In the morning, he would figure out the rest.

A sigh of relief waved through the bus as he picked up the child and headed out. He ignored the foul look the bus driver sent him, and allowed the fresh air to hit his overheated face. Behind him, the bus doors closed.

“Fucking cocksuckers,” his mumbles carried through the empty, crooked street, and the child's small hands clung to his jacket as he cried. “Shh, hush now,” Tonny told him, franticly looking around them. “I'll get you your fucking milk if you can just be quiet.”

The smell of dirty diaper was unmistakable, even in the cool evening air, and Tonny shifted his dark eyes from left to right over classic bricks rather than gray concrete.

There, further down the road, was a light: 

_Cosmo &Câine Cornershop_ was written neatly above the wooden door.

Tonny cursed again, as he quickly crossed the road to the nearby shop that blinked a bright OPEN sign. The sky was already darkening red and orange with the approaching evening, and this place could very well be his only shot before he would have to start banging on doors, and risking for the cops to be called.

A little bell rang as he entered the small, cozy but very neatly organized store that appeared to be completely empty. The little boy on his arm stopped his crying at the sound, and blinked his little, brown eyes against the new surroundings and the overhead lights for a bright moment, before he opened his little mouth wide again, and released a piercing screech.

“Fuck, fuck... I know,” Tonny gritted his teeth down as he felt his armpits drenching with sweat and his heart pounding sick and heavy in his chest. A quick scan of the shop showed him bread, cereal, fruit, freezers... but that's not what he was looking for. Milk, there was milk. Cartons and gallons. But that wasn't the kind babies drank from bottles, was it? 

Was it?

He didn't know what he was looking for. Charlotte had been breastfeeding him, and he sure as hell couldn't provide him with that. 

Tonny stood on the spot, aimlessly looking around him as the baby in his arms cried and cried and cried, and fuck... Tonny had felt like a fuck-up many times in his life, but never had he felt so utterly, devastatingly useless as he did right now.

_Maybe his father had been right about him._

“Excuse me sir, but your baby is very loud,” an unfamiliar voice disrupted the chaos in Tonny's head.

Tonny jerked, turned, and saw a slightly shorter man standing behind him. His eyes were blue as the summer sky, his skin was pale, smooth, and his chestnut, waved hair was neatly combed to the side. Over a perfectly ironed shirt and pants, the man was wearing a dark-green apron with a name tag that read **ADAM**.

Even with the door right behind him, Tonny felt cornered. “Fuck you,” he lashed at the man as he held the baby tighter in his arms. “I know that, don't I?” 

His tone was harsh. Harsher than in any way necessary or smart in this situation. But the man named Adam didn't even bat an eye at the angry words spat in his direction.

“Is it hungry?” he asked, undisturbed, as he stepped closer to study the baby in Tonny's arms. Squeezing his eyes with curiosity but also openly wincing at the continuous noise.

Tonny felt himself stunned under the open scrutiny of the piercing blue eyes. “ _He_ ,” he bit at the young man with the perfectly pressed shirt beneath a beige sweater. “He's a _he_.”

And that was about the only thing he knew about the kid. _His own fucking kid._

Adam shrugged lightly, looking the baby over with a blank stare. “I couldn't possibly have known that,” he deadpanned, and Tonny felt the back of his neck itch with rising frustration.

“He's wearing blue,” he exclaimed, pushing the baby – dressed in the powder blue ski-suit – forward, as if to demonstrate the color. “What fucking more do you need?”

But Adam only scoffed, the noise barely audible over the baby's cries. “That doesn't mean anything,” he spoke stubbornly. “In an article from 1918, Earnshaw's Infants' Department actually advised parents to use the color pink for boys as it was strong and powerful, while blue was considered more delicate and dainty for the girls.”

Adam's gaze seemed locked on Tonny's forehead as he spoke full sentences as if reading them from a book behind his eyes. Tonny had never heard another person speak like that. 

Tonny didn't have a head for... facts.

“I don't know what to do,” he blurted to Adam, a grimace pulling at his tired features. A painful confession. A desperate confession.

Silence followed, but for the sad wails of the tiring baby. 

“Well, we need to get him quiet,” Adam suddenly spoke decisively, before he turned on his heels and walked away. “He needs food.” He moved past the aisles, as he threw an impatient look over his shoulder. 

“I'll make him a bottle. Follow me.” 

And those were words that actually made Tonny feel an almost cruel lunge of hope in his stomach. With the baby in his arms, he took large strides after Adam, and followed him past the aisles, behind the counter and through a door that led to a small room in the back.

“Nigel!” Adam called out as soon as he stepped into what seemed to be a modest living room, complete with couch, coffee-table and a rather large television set. From what seemed to be a connected kitchen, another man came walking into the room, and Tonny quickly found himself face to face with a figure that reminded him much more of himself than Adam did.

_Nigel._

The guy was about Tonny's height, but broader. His bulky muscles were clearly visible in the thin shirt, littered with wiener dogs, and stretched tightly around his torso. A tattoo of a girl stretched along his neck, his eyes were dark and his ash blond hair was pushed back to curve at the nape.

“Who the fuck are you?” Nigel snarled, stepping up to Tonny and narrowing his eyes at him. Tonny returned the scowl that was directed at him, not backing down from locking their eyes as his fingers curled protectively into the blue ski-suit of his boy.

This kind of communication was easier. Much more familiar.

But the heavy staring was disrupted by Adam, who walked past them with a berating clack of his tongue. “Nigel, this man has a crying baby and he needs help,” he said, making Nigel's eyes follow him with frowning confusion. “I'm making a bottle,” Adam called, throwing Nigel a stern look as he walked into the adjoining kitchen. “Be nice.”

Tonny watched as Nigel's gaze lingered openly on Adam, before the man brought his amber eyes to the protesting baby in Tonny's arms and bent his head closer.

“Oh, is that's what's fucking going on, eh?” he said, and a sudden smile stretched on his face as he cooed at the baby. “You're a hungry little thing?” Crooked, sharp teeth, stained by cigarettes and coffee appeared from behind his lips. Much like Tonny's.

“He's a boy,” Tonny blurted, turning his son away from the staring stranger. Nigel rose a light-colored eyebrow as he straightened himself.

“Of course he's a boy,” he scoffed at Tonny, gesturing to the ski-suit. “He's wearing blue.”

There was a sigh audible from the kitchen, just as Nigel reached out his arms to take the baby from Tonny. “And he's fucking suffocating in that thing. Come here.” 

There was a moment of startling hesitation, and as much as Tonny wanted to back away or refuse the strangers' _aggressively_ offered help, he was also incredibly relieved to feel the weight and responsibility shift for a moment.

He allowed Nigel to take his boy, because Tonny still had no fucking clue of what to do.

He watched as Nigel settled the baby in his arms with ease, and smiled at the little boy staring up at him. “Oh, you need a diaper change, ursulet,” he said, wincing as his hand tested the weight of the thick diaper before he snatched a cushion from the nearest chair.

Tonny blinked at the foreign word. Nigel's accent had already given away he was not from the area, but before he could ask what the man was saying to his child, Adam's voice rang out from the kitchen.

“I'll get some wipes and a diaper from the shop,” he called, as the noise of a microwave could be heard over the settling whimpers of the little boy in Nigel's arms, who laid the cushion on top of a small side-table.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Nigel yelled his response, and Tonny's head shot up, blinking wildly as he felt a tight churn in his stomach. 

_Gorgeous._ Nigel had called the other man gorgeous.

That was...

Maybe it was a cultural thing. Something that didn't translate in his foreign tongue. Maybe he was kidding around. Maybe...

Nigel didn't look like a _faggot_.

No. No, he wasn't. He couldn't be.

“Fuck, pui, you're a big stinker,” Nigel laughed as he gently laid down the baby on the cushion, and started unzipping his thick suit. His hands tickled the baby's belly, and the little boy stared up at Nigel with wide, brown eyes. 

Tonny swallowed as he watched, feeling the envy sour in his chest. He stepped closer to the table that was currently used as a commode for his son, just as Adam came to deliver a diaper and a pack of wet wipes to hand to Nigel. 

“I can do this,” Tonny mumbled, “I changed his diaper once before.” He was unsure why he felt the need to defend his fatherly skills, but he knew he just felt sick with incompetence next to this stranger, handling his child like _he_ was the one who had fathered him instead.

Nigel laughed whole-heartedly, making both Tonny and the baby's eyes widen at the sharp sound, as he folded open the dirty diaper to show an almost liquid pool of mustard yellow baby-poop. “One like this?” he cackled, already reaching for the wet wipes as Tonny took a quick step back.

No. No, not like that.

“Fuck, well...” he stuttered, eyes on the baby who was efficiently yet swiftly cleaned by wet tissues that were disposed in a clear plastic bag Adam had handed.

“So fucking pay attention,” Nigel barked, shooting a pointed look in his direction as he pulled the dirty diaper from under the baby's bum, and skillfully folded it shut into a small, smelly package. 

“It's all about keeping an eye on those wee little kickers,” he said, and promptly baby legs were up in the air, held gently by Nigel as he finished the cleaning and shoved the fresh diaper in place. Almost instantly, Tonny's son's cries were reduced to little yips and yaps of sound, as his amber eyes shone bright on Nigel. “And Bob's your fucking uncle.”

Tonny watched the man's self-satisfied grin, and rubbed his hands over the back of his shaved head. “Fuck, man,” he sniffled nervously before dragging up his dry, raw nose. “You know a lot about babies.”

And there was that bitter twinge of jealousy; a feeling he recognized easily. He had felt it a lot.

Nigel smiled a crooked smile as he closed the clean diaper. “I'm the eldest of fucking eight,” he spoke proudly. “It's been a while, but you don't fucking forget this stuff.” His laugh was warm and light, and Tonny watched him as he smiled at his baby while pulling the little arms from the warm suit that was still around the little boy's torso.

“Let's get you out of this fucking blanket of a suit, bebelus,” he said, before picking up Tonny's son and resting the baby's head in the crook of his neck. The suit came off, revealing the child's romper wet and wrinkled with sweat.

Tonny hadn't realized.

“Fuck. Shit,” Tonny mumbled a curse as his hands started patting down his coat. A cigarette. He needed a fucking cigarette.

He pulled the pack from his back pocket, relieved to find it there, but as he opened the carton to fish out a smoke, Nigel's hand came to lower his with a swift movement. “No smoking in front of the kid,” he spoke warningly, and Tonny saw the stern look deeply engraved in his expressive features. 

No smoking in front of the kid; too fucking late there. Everyone had smoked in front of the boy. His mother had. She had done fuck knows what and fuck knows who even as she had carried him for nine months in her body. 

One more cigarette wouldn't make a difference now.

“Shit,” he muttered, as he pushed his cigarettes back in his pocket. There was a door on the left side of the room, seemingly leading out back. Maybe he could...

“You're not going anywhere,” Nigel said, apparently having followed his gaze and train of thought. He patted the baby's back as he pointed to the worn, leather comfy chair. “You sit right fucking there,” he said, lowering himself onto the opposite couch. In his arms, the baby seemed to be trying to suck the man's earlobe into his searching mouth.

“I've got questions.”

Tonny blinked, blankly staring at his child. The leather chair creaked and squeaked under his weight, as he heard the baby's fussy cries. He couldn't refuse Nigel answers. Not if they wanted help. And they needed help.

_He_ needed help.

At last, Adam walked in with a bottle of milk in his hand. “Formula,” he said, glancing over to Tonny, who quickly sat up straighter in his squeaky chair. 

Panic was thick in his throat again. A bottle. “I-I don't know... I've never...”

In theory, it couldn't be that hard, but he...

“I'll feed him, come here,” Nigel said, impatient with Tonny's wide stare and the unhappy child in his arms. He reached for the bottle, as Adam came to bring it.

“I tested the temperature on my wrist. The packing said to do that,” Adam spoke flatly, but as Nigel took the bottle from him, the stern expression on the larger man melted into a wide and tender smile. 

“Have a baby with me, gorgeous?” he sighed, as his fingers curled around Adam's wrist. 

Tonny saw, watched. Inside his ears, he could hear the rush of his own blood. His heart seemed to have moved up to settle in the hollow of his throat.

And Adam smiled, briefly but warm, before he took Nigel's hand from his wrist and crossed his arms before his chest. “No, Nigel,” he answered, firmly shaking his head. “You would curse in front of the child all the time and that's not a good example.”

Nigel cackled happily as he sank down into the cushions and positioned the baby on his arms while Adam sat down beside him on the couch. 

At last, a bottle of milk. Watching the white liquid slosh around behind the clear plastic, Tonny had never felt such relief in his life; which said something considering the many drug-deals. His baby was OK. They were OK.

“Come here, little bear,” Nigel purred at the prattling baby. “Open up.”

The child's lips closed around the nipple in an instant, and he started sucking the milk so earnestly his little forehead wrinkled with effort. Nigel chuckled. “ Oh yes, you are hungry,” he cooed happily. They all watched the little boy drink in an almost peaceful silence until Nigel's dark eyes rose up to meet Tonny's.

“So, now that's settled, I'll ask again...” he started, as he leaned himself back against the backrest. The baby's head was in the crook of his elbow, and his little hands scratched at the bottle.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Tonny's nose twitched as he sat in the chair. He needed a smoke. He needed a line. A shot of vodka. 

“Tonny,” he said. Short and dry.

Adam watched him too. Stoic, almost without blinking as he sat beside Nigel, whose tongue seemed to poke in one of his dentures as he huffed air from his nostrils. “And what's his name?” he asked, nodding to the little boy who had closed his eyes into the feeding.

Tonny's fingers itched his nose again. Empty, and probably staying that way for tonight. 

Fuck.

“Fuck if I know,” he admitted with a grunt of tired defeat as he rested his head in his hands. He was ashamed to say it, but it was the truth. He knew nothing about his son. He knew nothing about babies. 

Not even his own.

“Isn't he yours?” Adam asked, confused innocence in his blue eyes as he wrung his hands together in his lap. Tonny's eyes shifted to the ceiling. 

“He's mine, but I didn't even know Charlotte was fucking knocked up, did I?” he grunted, as he ran his hands over his head all the way down to his neck. He bowed his head, almost low enough to touch his knees, before he looked at Adam with hunched shoulders. “He was there when I got out of jail. She told me 'cause she wanted money.” 

Tonny laughed dry and humorless at the memory. “That was all she fucking wanted, and it was never good enough...” He tasted bile in the back of his throat, and had he been anywhere else, he would have gotten up to punch a wall. 

Nigel's lips pursed at his words, but his eyes looked down at the drinking baby as Adam spoke instead, sitting ramrod straight on the couch. “Where is his mother?” 

Tonny laughed again, shaking his head as his eyes flashed down to his worn trainers. “Last I've seen her, on a kitchen floor in Copenhagen with her nose full of coke,” he answered him honestly as Nigel cursed under his breath, still looking at the drinking baby on his lap.

“Fuck, pui,” he spoke to the little boy, brushing a large hand over the soft head as Adam blinked his long, dark lashes.

“That doesn't sound like a good mother,” he stated bluntly, and Tonny's hands balled into fists on his thighs.

“She fucking ain't, is she?” he bit. Nigel's dark eyes flashed dangerously towards him, but neither could speak before Adam questioned him further, completely undisturbed by his outburst.

“Does she known he's here?” he asked, his tone still even as Tonny pressed back into his chair, his hands up in the air. 

“Fuck no, she doesn't want him,” he nearly shouted. “She's killing herself with that shit she puts in her veins and the dirty dicks she sucking.”

And then he watched, with great regret, how the baby's eyes flew back open at his raised voice. 

Tonny knew he was flushed and sweating, and he clenched his teeth when Adam openly grimaced at his words. Nigel soothed the startled child with a rub over his belly, and Tonny felt jealous and guilty all at once.

Fuck, he was losing it. He was losing everything.

The Duke was dead; his own father, stabbed to death in a moment of complete, control-less fury. And in that blind state of panic, Tonny had taken his baby from the mother – drugged out of her mind and leaving her child unattended. 

Charlotte didn't care about his son. Just like the Duke hadn't cared about him.

“She was fucking good enough for yours,” Nigel sneered at him, and Tonny felt his jaw spasm and his shoulders tense. His eyes were hard on Nigel and his mouth was already forming around curses before Adam's voice drove through the tension.

“Is she still your girlfriend?” he asked him, his shoulders still straight, his hands on his knees. Tonny scoffed.

“No, she never fucking was,” he said, pulling a face. “She's a whore.”

Tonny's eyes shifted restlessly through the room, as Adam's dark eyebrows rose up. “OH, a prostitute,” he said, almost delighted as if proud of his own conclusion.

Nigel leaned over, smiling at Adam as he bumped their shoulders. “Yes, baby,” he praised him, and Tonny felt that odd clench of cold in his stomach. He had no time to analyze it, however, because Nigel's eyes turned hard and stern on him as he said. “But which is no way to speak about the mother of your fucking child.”

There was a warning in there Tonny couldn't find the strength to ignore. Instead, he started fumbling for his cigarettes again. 

“My mother wasn't a prostitute,” Adam meanwhile declared happily. “She just died when I was little.”

Tonny stared at the man for a stunned second, before he fished out his smokes and lighter. “Congratulations,” he murmured, confusion and agitation in every nerve, as he watched Adam beam at him. 

Nigel waved his hands aggressively to the door. “No fucking smoking here,” he growled, gesturing to the door. “Outside.”

And Tonny felt relief as he stood from his chair. Glad for the opportunity to sniff some air and be away from curious, critical stares. One eye on the sleeping baby in Nigel's arms, he headed for the door. But passing by, Nigel's fingers caught the hem of his sleeve to stop him. 

“Look, Tonny,” Nigel said, speaking hushed not to disturb the baby, now asleep in his arms. “You need a place to stay, you and the kid,” he said, his face unreadable but his eyes betraying righteousness. “I'm not sending you out there this late with a fucking baby, OK?” he said, pointing at the sleeping child. “You're both staying.”

His throat was suddenly tight, and Tonny tried to scowl it away. As much as he wanted to be proud, as much as he wanted to be without the need of help... He needed this. He wasn't so stupid to refuse to see that.

“Fuck,” he said, blinking his lashes as he looked at his trainers and mumbled a: “Thanks.” He was already out the back door before he heard Nigel hissing after him: “I'll find a place for the little man to sleep. Don't you fucking run off.”

The door fell shut behind him, and cool air washed over his skin.

“Fuck.”

It felt good.

He was standing on the porch of a garden, holding recycling bins, a bike, a shed and a long stretch of green lawn. Surrounding it was a picket fence, that led to a small brick road into the village.

The sun had set, and the moon was already bright in the air.

Tonny lit his cigarette and took a drag so deep he could feel it in his toes, as his eyes rolled back in his head. He didn't know what it was he felt, as he stared into the dark blue sky. There was so much to be worried about, full blown scared even. But there was a very odd silence hanging in the air around him, and the serenity was almost enough make him feel high.

He was a murderer, he was on the run, he had a baby he did not know how to take care of.

But he had a place to sleep, a satisfied, sleeping baby boy, and a cigarette.

That too.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a rattling frame of a bicycle coming down the brick road, and a round light suddenly shone into the garden. Tonny saw a young man, slowing with squeaking breaks before he jumped off and parked his bike against the fence. He didn't open the gate, but hopped gracefully to the other side with a sweep of his legs, wrapped in dark, tight jeans.

Tonny froze as the man came walking up across the lawn, and watched his outline drawn out against the dark blue sky. Smaller than he was. Narrow frame, delicate, almost. Brown curls that came down to his shoulders and bounced around his face. 

Tonny knew he was a man. There was no sign of curvy tits or hips, but he could easily have mistaken him for a woman in the dark. 

Yes. Yes, that would explain the sudden strain in Tonny's chest.

The man reached the bottom three steps leading up to the porch, and blue-gray eyes blinked confusedly at Tonny. His skin was porcelain, his curls a warm brown, his jeans and t-shirt beneath his brown leather jacket tight...

...and Tonny gritted his teeth. 

What the fuck was going on? Who the fuck was this?

The man seemed to share the sympathy.

“Who are you?” he asked, as his backpack fell from one of his shoulders and swung across his back. His leather jacket was a little big, falling over the back of his hands. One clung to the remaining strap.

His voice was clear but not sharp. Young, with a gentle darkness that was the clear distinction between boy and man.

Tonny took a drag of his cigarette, looking down on the stranger standing at the bottom of the three steps of stairs leading up to the porch. He felt the words as if spoken against his own skin, and tried to push down the urge to shudder.

“I'm Tonny,” he said, shuffling his feet against the wooden floorboards.

The boy blinked his curling lashes as he took the steps up and came to stand right beside Tonny. He smelled like mint, and his skin was slightly damp from the bike ride. “OK,” the boy said, sizing Tonny up with a stare that the man felt like a licking candle. “And why are you standing on my back porch?”

The boy wasn't that much shorter, which surprised Tonny as they stood face to face. His hair shone in the moonlight, and his teeth were white. Straight. Different from Tonny's. 

Boys that looked like that didn't usually talk to Tonny in such a manner. 

Boys like that feared him.

Before he could gather words into his mouth, Tonny saw the back door being pushed open by one small hand, belonging to Adam. “We're helping him, Aiden,” the man called out to the new arrival.  
“He has a baby.”

Aiden. He was called Aiden.

“...Oh. OK,” Aiden said, a little frown pushing the skin on his forehead down, and he shot Tonny a strange look as he passed him on the porch and took the door from Adam. 

A baby. As if that explained it all.

Tonny crushed the remains of his cigarette under his sneakers, and swiftly followed Aiden, walking after Adam into the kitchen.

“Tonny needs a place to stay,” Adam said, as Tonny walked in and saw an outdated but cozy kitchen with a large table at the center. Adam ushered him to sit down at the table beside Aiden as he walked to the coffeemaker. “And he needs help with the baby,” he said, as he placed a coffee pad into the machine. 

Aiden glanced at him, and Tonny caught his eyes before quickly lowering his gaze. Thank fuck there was coffee.

“He doesn't know how to take care of him,” Adam continued to speak as if Tonny wasn't in the room with him as he lined up four mugs on the counter. “We've learned the baby is a boy, but he doesn't have a name.”

The machine stopped buzzing, and a cup of black coffee was placed in front of Tonny. He quickly folded his hands around it, needing the comfort and the warmth.

“Decaf,” Adam told him, as he placed another mug in front of Aiden. “It's almost bedtime.”

Tonny looked at the black liquid before him, and all the promises it did not hold. 

Beside him, Aiden snorted.

Fuck. Fuck this entire fucking day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nigel would throw your ass to the curb if you bring that shit into his house,” he said, and Tonny heard him sucking air through his teeth, “I believe there's some old trauma involved, there.” 
> 
> Tonny turned back to his stomach again to see Aiden was still sitting against the headboard. His knees were drawn up and his sketchbook lay on his thighs, covering any parts that would otherwise be dangerously close to being on display.
> 
> “I thought Adam was the boss,” Tonny challenged, as he met Aiden's blue eyes in the little table-light. The boy smiled, showing glittering teeth and lips.
> 
> “Adam is...” he smiled fondly, openly contemplating as he tilted his head.
> 
> “A faggot?” Tonny finished, as he watched Aiden's eyes widen before they narrowed to tiny slits.
> 
> “...my cousin,” Aiden finished, his mouth small with disdain. The sketchbook and pen found their way back to the nightstand as Aiden sat up, cross-legged, as he pulled his blanket over his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Homophobic thoughts and talk

Nigel walked into the kitchen; still carrying the sleeping baby in his arm, and holding blankets in his one free hand as he started rummaging through a cabinet.

He mumbled words under his breath, and Tonny could make out “little”, “blankets” and “fucking” as some of the many among them.

Tonny watched Aiden's eyes resting on the baby, as he sipped his coffee with pursed lips. “Isn't there anyone looking for him?” he asked, nodding towards the sleeping child, pale-faced with the deep sleep that had taken him as he was carried around in the safe crook of Nigel's arm – rocked by the movements of his restless pacing. “Or for you?” Aiden continued, turning his gaze to Tonny. 

Tonny watched the lavender eyelids of his boy twitch with dreams as he felt Aiden's eyes resting heavily upon him. “The cops,” he said, before he could think twice, and the words left him with a sigh that was tight inside his throat. “The cops are looking for me.” 

It was silent.

Adam blinked at him, Aiden's coffee halted mid-air and Nigel stopped rummaging through the cabinet as he turned slowly with blond eyebrows as high as they could go.

“I beg your fucking pardon?” he said, directing his full attention to Tonny as he squared his shoulders and flared his nostrils. “What was that you said?”

Tonny cursed inside the palms of his hand. “Shit. Fuck.” He already felt raw with exposure.  
It wouldn't do to start lying now.

It didn't fucking matter. Jail, no jail. Failure or more failure. He wouldn't know what the right path was, at this point.

“I killed my father,” he breathed the words in a single breath. He swallowed to push back the bile that rose inside his throat at his own confession.

He had killed his own fucking father.

The silence was thicker this time. Tonny heard Nigel's sharp intake of breath, before he was the first to speak.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid.”

Tonny kept his eyes on the table, wringing his hands together as he heard Adam take the seat in front of him. He wished, more than ever, that there was a line of white powder on the table in front of him. It would clear his head. Take the edge off the clouded pain. Instead, he only had access to lukewarm, decaf fucking coffee.

“That's an awful thing to do,” Adam's flat voice sounded from across the table, and Tonny looked up to see him stare at him with that everlasting stoic expression. Not frightened, nor angry, nor pitying him. In this moment, it was an expression Tonny could actually face.

“My dad is dead too,” Adam continued, nodding along to his own words. “But I didn't kill him.”

Tonny felt his jaw twitch as Nigel came to stand behind Adam, stroking a broad hand through the neatly combed hair of the akwardly smiling man. “No, baby,” he shushed him lovingly. “This is quite a different fucking story.”

Tonny's eyes lingered on the stroking hand, as he felt his abdomen clench tight. He was almost grateful for his attention to be pulled away by Aiden's probing question. 

“Why did you kill him?” the young man asked, appearing calm but determined over the mug of black, pointless coffee as Tonny stared straight into narrowed but curious eyes. The blue of them made him feel exposed. 

Eyes back on his cup, Tonny stretched his restless jaw. “He wanted me to kill his ex-wife,” he said, his voice cracking on the words as he gestured carelessly with his hand. “But I couldn't fucking do that...” His teeth clenched at the memory. “So he got fucking mad and I...” There was a punch through his abdomen that could only be described as grief... pain. “I stabbed him, d-didn't I?”

Tonny suddenly felt like a thousand ants crawled under his skin like a moving rash, and he shifted his eyes almost angrily through the room before he got up from his chair with a jerk of his knees, and shoved it aside. Sadness always turned into laughter or rage, and he could feel the agitation rising inside like an elevator with a determined destination as he paced aimlessly to the window.

“Fuck.” His fingers were damp with the sweat that formed on his forehead, as Tonny pressed his hands to his skin. Heavy footsteps moved up behind him.

“So you fucking lost it, you're saying?” Nigel's voice carried low against the back of his ears. “Is that something you do often?”

Tonny's fingers clenched before he turned, his face heating as he came face to face with Nigel, still carrying his baby in his arms.

“I did NOT...” he hissed, trying to straighten himself as he flexed his arms broader, but stopping his raised words when he realized he could waken his son in the process. “For fuck's sake...”

There was a thud of a mug on the table.

“Come on now, Nigel,” Aiden called out from his seat at the kitchen table. His hands pushed palms-up in the air. “We all know how crazy family can make us,” he said, eyes unblinking on Nigel, who had turned himself sideways to face him. “I know _I_ do.” 

Nigel sighed as Adam perked in his seat. “My dad tried to feed me cauliflower when I was six, and I was so disgusted I smashed the plate against the wall,” he said, blue eyes large on Aiden. “He told me I had gone crazy, too.”

Nigel huffed, turning back to Tonny as Aiden's words rang from behind. “Let's hear him out,” he said, surprising Tonny with the near-carefree delivery in which the words were spoken. “We all 'snap' under the proper circumstances,” Aiden said, lowering his voice to a mumble. “That's doesn't mean he's dangerous.”

Tonny watched Aiden, slouched on his chair and looking straight into Tonny's eyes before draining the remains of the coffee with a firm swig. Brown curls bounced around his angled face.

“So,” he said, when Nigel stayed silent. “Why did you snap, Tonny?” The question was almost breezy, and Tonny watched Aiden place his mug on the table and raise dark eyebrows at him. He turned his head back to the window, feeling naked under Aiden's stare. From the corner of his eye, he could see Nigel staring straight at him. Adam was the only one still drinking his coffee.

“He fucking hated me,” Tonny breathed in deep, biting the inside of his lip as he felt his insides wash over with icy burns. “He never wanted me.” His muscles tensed, and his mouth twitched. “I did everything he wanted and he still fucking hated me.”

He was aware of his voice rising, as his eyes started scanning for something to grab, to throw, to destroy... break something to see something broken. Something that wasn't him. 

“No throwing of our things,” Adam's voice rang from the table. The man was looking at him with warning in that unwavering gaze. Beside being horribly blunt and full of facts, it appeared the man was a mind-reader as well.

“Fuck”, Tonny cursed and saw Adam's eyes meet his through clenched lids. The boy rose from his chair to put his now-empty cup on the counter. 

“You curse a lot,” he grumbled, running water into the sink. “Luckily I have gotten used that over the years with Nigel.” Soap was poured into the sink, as hot water started steaming the glass of the cabinets above.

Aiden followed Adam and tossed his own, dirty mug in the water as he gestured to the sleeping child in Nigel's arms. “So you had enough, stabbed the bastard, and... took the kid from his mother?” he asked, still on track with the conversation despite Adam's mumbles. His expression was open, not invasive, and Tonny's blood pumped heavily through his drugless veins. 

“I had to leave, didn't I?” he snapped, throwing up his hands and feeling a pinch of guilt when Nigel put his hand over the baby's ear. His sleeping boy... “I didn't want to leave him there...” he swallowed, gesturing to his child.

“I just wanted him to have... something better, you know?”

This time, it was Nigel who cursed and turned to walk back to his seat at the table. Aiden followed, as Adam remained to wash the dirty mugs. 

Nigel eyed Tonny's empty chair with vigor, and didn't continue the conversation until Tonny, too, was seated.

“When I said you could stay...” Nigel sighed, his tanned forehead wrinkling with his thoughts, “I wasn't aware of the fucking risk you and...” Bourbon brown eyes shifted down to the sleeping baby, whose fuzzy head was still stroked by a broad hand. “I've got my own family to protect, and you being a wanted fugitive poses a fucking problem.”

Nigel's stare moved to Adam, drying his hands on a dishtowel with precise twists around his fingers, and his lips pursed with a pained grimace. Dark eyes lightened with a wet gloss. Tenderness and conflict that made Tonny taste sour in his burning throat. Nigel's family.

Fuck. They couldn't toss him out on his ass with a sleeping baby this late in the evening, could they? Fuck that.

Tonny's lungs felt tight with the hopeless fear that gripped him hard from his gut like a clenching hand, and his heartbeat was so loud he could almost feel it tremble in the back of his throat.

Shit.

“You can't throw them out, Nigel.” 

The sound of salvation broke through the panic. Aiden. 

Aiden was the voice of salvation; speaking the only words Tonny wanted to hear as the boy beside him shrugged up his shoulders and gestured to Tonny with a flick of his hand. 

“You didn't throw me out because I have a piece of shit for a father and posed a ' _risk_ ',” he scoffed, air-quoting with blinking fingers in the air before he pursed ruby lips and turned his stubborn gaze to Tonny. “I'm still wanted for that old fuck's assault in the U.S.,” he told him, fingers now drumming lightly on the table. Dark hair bounced down to his narrow shoulders. 

Tonny held those stormy eyes with his, and felt his hands clench on the fabric of his sweats. Aiden.

Aiden was defending him.

Nigel sighed, and dropped his head back over the rest of his chair. “Fuck,” he said, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “At least my old man was never around.”

Tonny's eyes stayed on Aiden, who clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth at Nigel's words. The boy's confession surprised him. The kid seemed too clean to know of these things. Fresh, pink and blue and chestnut. Nothing like the gray haze he saw on the people in Copenhagen. Himself included.

Across him, Adam's voice rang soft and clear. “My Dad was nice, before he died,” he said; both factually and pleased with bright blue eyes and an absent smile. Nigel chuckled again and brought his head back up to look at Adam in a way that seemed to wipe all previous worries from his mind.

“That's why you're a star, baby,” he purred at Adam, who nodded gently in agreement. A kiss was placed on Adam's cheek, and lingered too long and soft for it to be friendly.

Tonny looked down, licking his own dry lips as he thought of the times he and his friends had mockingly kissed each other. That had always been hard, rather than _tender_.

“Yes. Happy family,” Aiden scoffed airily beside him, his hand flat on the table, rolling his eyes at the display as he pushed himself up and leaned on the tabletop.

“Adam?” he said, and Tonny followed his questioning eyes to the small man, still smiling back at Nigel.

He blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance as he turned his reluctant eyes to Aiden. “Yes, I think he should stay too,” he said, briefly glancing towards Tonny. “I'd like for us to help the baby.” Three pairs of eyes shifted to the sleeping infant in Nigel's arms. “We helped Aiden. We can help other people too.”

Tonny felt weak, hearing those words and watching his child. Safe, small. He felt his throat thicken and his chest cramp into a feeling he had never learned to name or express.

“We'll be careful,” Adam said, nodding his head at Nigel with confident confirmation. “We know how to be careful, remember, Nigel?” 

And Nigel smiled, tapping two fingers against the table as he sighed. “I know,” he spoke with defeated delight before squeezing one of Adam's shoulders with his hand. “You're the boss, gorgeous.” It was a loving flex of fingers, and Adam beamed at Tonny from across the table. 

“I'm the boss,” he said, with an informative nod. “Nigel always says so.” 

Nigel's chuckle was tired but warm as he got up from his seat and walked to a door at the back of the room, revealing a narrow staircase behind it. “I made a cot for him in the laundry room,” he said, nodding towards the baby in his arms as his eyes flashed to Tonny. “But you better keep an ear out during the night, because he might come for milk.”

And Tonny stared back, as his heart began to stutter. “Oh.” The baby would sleep near him during the night, and he had never... he had never slept with a baby near. A baby that needed care all hours of the day and night. _His_ baby.

What if he did cry? What if he did want milk? Tonny stood up to meet Nigel at eye-level, wringing his hands nervously before his chest. “Then what do I do?” 

Nigel leaned against the door post, his bicep used as a pillow by the small head. It was quite telling the man's arm did not yet seem to be tiring; Nigel was strong. - “If you need help, Adam and I sleep in the biggest bedroom, first room on the right,” he said, smiling when Adam came to stand beside him.

“Don't come in without knocking,” he spoke inscrutably, passing Nigel, and making his way up the stairs without a single glance back. Nigel's eyes followed his behind with an open leer.

“Unless you want a fucking show,” he muffled as he followed with the pull of an invisible magnet, and gestured for Tonny to come along.

Tonny watched them, and saw how Nigel's free hand flowed over the curves of Adam's backside as he tried to mold himself as close to the moving man as he could get. Giggles followed, swatting hands and a playful yelp. Tonny stared and felt his mouth go dry with more than just the need for drugs. He was confused. He was confused about knowing he understood what was going on in front of him, and not knowing how it made him feel.

No two men had ever behaved like this in front of him.

“He means that in the literal sense,” Aiden quipped as he slipped past him to climb up the stairs, and motioned for Tonny to hurry after. He did, not wanting to be left behind in the, now dark, unfamiliar kitchen, as he tried and tried to swallow and breathe away the uneasy pull in his throat. 

He walked up the steep stairs, with Aiden moving up in front of him. He heard the boy scold the playful couple before him as they stalled his movements, and Tonny had to force himself to walk slowly rather than press closer into Aiden's body-heat. Not that he wanted to. It wasn't like that. He was just naturally a 'two-steps-in-one-jump' kind of climber.

But keeping distance caused his eyes to see Aiden's round, firm ass move in his jeans, and Tonny quickly lowered his gaze.

_His thighs were thick too._

Fuck. Shit. It had been too long since he had gotten laid.

Tonny entered a narrow, stretched hallway leading up to several doors. He noticed the door ajar on his right that showed a king sized-bed with sheets littered with stars and planets. The big bedroom that belonged to Nigel and Adam. They, however, gathered closely before a door on the left, and Tonny followed after Aiden to see a small room with a washing machine and shelves filled with towels and sheets.

On a high table against the wall was a little crate. Wooden, dark and probably once used to hold flowers or plants. Now, it was filled with a pillow and soft sheets instead.

“There you go, little chicklet,” Nigel cooed at the sleeping baby in his embrace, and Tonny saw him laying his boy in the crate, softened on every angle by fluffy blankets and plaids. “You can sleep softly here.”

The baby didn't even stir as a blanket was pulled over his small chest; deep and far within his sleep. He was tucked in warmly by Nigel's big hands, who wrapped the wool sides around the baby's arms and tested the crate's sturdiness by trying to wiggle the wood. 

No movement, no splinters. 

“He'll be safe here.”

Tonny looked at the little boy, and felt his eyes heating at the sight of his pale, delicate face. He had been asleep in his own little bed this very morning, with his mother to feed him his meals.

High out of her mind.

“Thanks,” he nearly spat from the pressure in his throat - nodding his head and tightening his lips. He couldn't say more.

Nigel's large, hard hand slapped between his shoulders, and startled him back into reality. “Don't fucking mention it, though you hardly fucking did.” Nigel smirked out his pointed teeth, as he ushered them out of the room and turned off the light and left the door on a crack.

“You can room with Aiden for tonight, if Aiden will fucking have you,” he said, turning to Aiden with pulled brows, his consent clearly an afterthought. “Else it's the couch,” he added sheepishly when Aiden stared back at him in silence. 

Nigel shifted, facing Tonny again as his hand rubbed the back of his neck - feeling the memory of a night on that sofa as he said: “I can tell you, that ain't no fucking picnic for the old bones.”

Adam sighed from behind Nigel, his fingers curling in the side of Nigel's shirt to tug him close. “You never put my wool sweaters in the dryer again,” he said, as Nigel allowed the man to slip his arms around his waist.

Nigel laughed, replied, but Tonny could only keep his eyes away from Aiden who remained silent throughout, and only smiled mildly-amused at the bickering couple. Before Tonny could insist to spend the night in the laundry room instead, however, Aiden looked at him with eyes that were not particularly warm, and yet warmer than anything he had felt directed at him in a long while. Then, the boy shrugged. 

“He can room with me,” Aiden said, pushing open the door across the laundry room to show a modest but clean bedroom. He crossed his arms over his chest, as a sly smile stretched his mouth. “But if you try to rob me...” he spoke warningly, eyes sparkling but shiny lips stern. “...I'm not as fragile as I appear.”

Blue eyes peered challengingly at him from under dark lashes, and a hint of white teeth sparkled like pearls in the light. Tonny felt himself breathing through his mouth.

“He won't,” Adam said, peering over Nigel's shoulder. “Tomorrow, I'm going to teach him how to make a bottle of formula milk,” he spoke most sincerely, as he dropped his arms from around Nigel's waist. “He will want to learn that.”

Nigel was gently pushed aside as Adam walked to their bedroom, with a polite “Goodnight”, and Nigel chuckled as he placed one hand atop Tonny's head, making dark eyes meet.

“And you better have a name for that gnome tomorrow,” he said, patting the buzz-cut hair before he walked after Adam. “or I'm naming him Nigel junior.”

**

Aiden's bed was one with an extra mattress hidden underneath that rolled out on tiny wheels when Aiden gave it a yank. Other than that, the room had a little desk, a chair, a built-in closet and small window in the slanted roof.

“You can use the bathroom first,” Aiden had said, as he pointed Tonny to the end of the hallway. It was old but decent, with a combo bath and shower and an upstairs toilet. Tonny sat there for a while, not even bothering to turn on the lights as he closed his eyes and breathed.

Fuck. He knew he was fucking lucky finding a place like this in such a fucked up, crazy time. He knew that. His son was safe, for now. They had a place to sleep.

His nostrils and gums ached for a high, and his hands shook on on his damp face. He didn't even have a home to long for. He couldn't think of a single face to miss, or a friend to call.

People at home hadn't cared for him.

Tonny washed his face, brushed his teeth with his fingers, took a piss, blew his nose and rubbed tears from his eyes with angry wipes of his sleeve.

Aiden left the room as he entered, and Tonny spent his time alone stripping to his underwear and smoking a cigarette by the open window. There was a lamppost illuminating the quiet street below, and he watched the leaves rustle on the nearby trees as the cool, clean air dried the sweat, tears and heat off his face. A different world from any place he had ever been.

“Don't let anyone else see,” Aiden warned when he entered the room, and gestured to the smoke that was whisked away by the gentle wind. “They don't allow cigarettes in the house since Nigel quit.” 

Aiden smirked, throwing his clothes on the back of the chair. “It's still a struggle,” he huffed, clad in nothing but his underwear, and Tonny felt his mouth go slack.

Aiden's wet, dark curls came down to his shoulders and dripped down his lean, hairless chest, making it glisten with water drops. His belly was flat, strong, and a dark trail of modest hair ran down beneath the waistband of baby blue boxers, where strong thighs stretched the fabric tight around his legs. 

Tonny turned his head away, blowing smoke from his nostrils. He suddenly felt very exposed in the tiny patch of fabric that was his purple briefs.

“If they insist on serving me decaf, I'm having my fucking smoke,” he grumbled, puffing into the cool evening air as he heard Aiden scoff behind him.

“I get that this is not the time to quit,” the boy chuckled dryly, and Tonny heard the bed creak as he climbed on the mattress. When he looked back over his shoulder, Aiden had propped up his pillow and started rummaging through the nightstand. A black book and pencil were pulled from the drawer.

“Yeah. It's been a fucking day,” Tonny breathed into the silence. His cigarette was nearly burning his fingers, and he pushed it out against an orange roof-tile before stepping back from the window and lowering himself into the bed on the floor. As he did, he heard a scratching noise of pencil on paper, and realized Aiden was sketching in his black book with swift movements.

He was drawing.

Tonny's eyes narrowed with confused mocking. He hadn't seen anyone drawing a picture since fucking middle school. _Not that he had attended any other._

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, sliding fully beneath the sheets and feeling more comfortable now his bare skin was hidden. He'd never had that before.

“Drawing, as you can see,” Aiden answered him patiently. A small lamp on the nightstand provided him with a spotlight on the page. “I create graphic novels.” 

Tonny saw the smile that played on the boy's lips. 

“It's kinda my job.”

Tonny turned until he was on his belly, supporting himself on his elbows as he looked up from the mattress on the floor. Graphic novels? “Fucking comic books,” he blinked with a dumbfounded expression, and watched Aiden's stretched mouth fold into an undignified pout.

“Graphic novels,” he corrected, eyes still on the paper and pink lips pursed tight. It was a sight that made Tonny's thumb smooth over the wrinkles of his own hand.

“What is it about?” he asked, relief coming from unknown sources when he watched Aiden's wrinkled brow release the tension beneath the skin.

“This one is about werewolves,” the boy answered him, his cheeks suddenly flushing to a soft pink. Tonny quickly flipped to his back to look at the dark, descending ceiling. There was no pink to be found there. No shining blue or glossy red.

“Werewolves aren't even real,” he huffed, as if it needed to be said. He squinted his eyes against the flickering shadows that played on the ceiling. “Though you might see some if you smoke enough of the right shit.” His own joke made him chuckle, as the sound of the pen against paper scratched through the room.

“I take it you are more a fan of the _non-fictional_ graphic novels?” Aiden mocked him impassively as he sketched. “Fantasy not sophisticated enough for you?”

Tonny chuckled at the derisive tone. “I take it you smoke a lot of the right shit, don't you?” he bounced back, smirking to himself. “Coming up with comic book drawings about fucking fairytales.”

There was a hum from the other bed, a rustle of sheets. “I don't do drugs,” Aiden spoke casually from over Tonny's head. “Nor will you, as long as you're here.”

His tone wasn't threatening, it was factual. But Tonny still gritted his teeth at the warning that shone clear through the message. 

_Well, then... he wouldn't fucking stay here then, would he?_

He rubbed his bare hands over his face again. His nose. The inside chafed with every inhale. But he couldn't get high, could he? Not unless he wanted to give his son what he was trying to save him from...

“Fuck,” he murmured, and Aiden huffed.

“Nigel would throw your ass to the curb if you bring that shit into his house,” he said, and Tonny heard him sucking air through his teeth, “I believe there's some old trauma involved, there.” 

Tonny turned back to his stomach again to see Aiden was still sitting against the headboard. His knees were drawn up and his sketchbook lay on his thighs, covering any parts that would otherwise be dangerously close to being on display.

“I thought Adam was the boss,” Tonny challenged, as he met Aiden's blue eyes in the little table-light. The boy smiled, showing glittering teeth and lips.

“Adam is...” he smiled fondly, openly contemplating as he tilted his head.

“A faggot?” Tonny finished, as he watched Aiden's eyes widen before they narrowed to tiny slits.

“...my cousin,” Aiden finished, his mouth small with disdain. The sketchbook and pen found their way back to the nightstand as Aiden sat up, cross-legged, as he pulled his blanket over his lap.

“Nigel and Adam helped me off the streets when I had no one else in the world,” he snipped, looking directly at Tonny with stormy blue eyes. “Similar to what they're doing with you and your child.”

There was a temerity in his tone that Tonny felt run over his naked back, as he pulled the sheets higher around his shoulders.

“They did,” he replied inscrutably. “And they're also faggots.”

He watched Aiden grin widely without joy, teeth sharply on display and eyes flashing to the ceiling. “I'm gonna give you this free little lump of advice here, Tonny,” he openly belittled him. “If you use that word ever again, Nigel is going to wring you through the shredder and use whatever is left as confetti at the pride parade.”

Tonny visualized the words before shrugging up his nose. Nigel could. The man wasn't bigger than him, but he was stronger and had a glint of experience and accomplishment in his dark eyes that Tonny envied. Nigel would not look out of place in Tonny's own neighborhood. 

His former...

He sniffled. “Nigel doesn't look like a...” he started, only to be stopped by the hand Aiden waved warningly in his face.

“Tonny...” he hissed warningly. And former Tonny would have laughed it off. Would have taunted him. Would have tried to humiliate him. But the world wasn't like that anymore. 

And it had never brought him far.

He tried again. “Like a... gay,” He said instead, pursing his lips at the effort. But Aiden nodded, satisfied, and Tonny felt that odd spark of relief.

“I don't think he is, necessarily,” Aiden said, biting his lower lip as if to suppress a smile. “I know he was married to a woman once.” He shrugged. “He just fell hard in love with Adam.”

At those words Tonny grimaced openly and shook his head. “Well, that's fucked up, choosing dick over a pair of tits,” he spat out, his eyes wide with a jolt of panic that shot through his veins. He didn't understand it, but he knew he didn't like the way it made him feel. 

He swallowed down forbidden words as Aiden sighed again. “He fell in love, Tonny,” he said into the small bedroom. “I don't think dick and tits have anything to do with that for Nigel.”

Tonny pushed out air as if to suppress a shudder. “Ugh.” His eyebrows were low enough for his eyes to spot them as he forced words from his mouth. “They do for me.” 

Uncomfortable, he lay himself back down on the mattress. 

Aiden shuffled on the bed. There was a silence before his clear voice chucked, and the sound made Tonny's skin tighten. “Look,” The boy said, “that man may be big and strong and know sixteen ways to snap a neck, but he would let Adam use him as a kitchen towel, would he damn well please.” 

The words were snorted before the sheets rustled again, and with a sharp click, the room was suddenly in complete darkness. 

“You've got bigger fish to fry, Tonny,” Aiden mumbled in the dark. “Best get over it.”

A body flopped stubbornly on the mattress on the bed beside Tonny. “Good night,” Aiden murmured, and turned himself towards the wall.

Tonny watched the shape of a waving tree on the ceiling.

“Aiden?” he asked, after moments had passed and he had found his courage within his nagging curiosity. 

“Are _you_ a...?”

Sheets rustled aggressively. “Annoyed? Yeah,” Aiden grunted beside him.

“I...” Tonny tried, but Aiden cut him off yet again with a snapped: “Goodnight, Tonny.” 

Aiden's breathing slowed quickly in the dark. Long before Tonny drifted to his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family!! I know this a "rare pairing" situation, so I'm really amazed by the kind comments I received! It's so encouraging and sweet and I love it that this has been given a chance by you! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! Since RDC6 is postponed, I have some extra writing time, so let's see where this goes <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tonny's endless misfortune in Pusher II was so hard to take, that I've been playing with the thought to write him some better days for a while! I also have a deep love for SpaceDogs and Aiden is a gentle beauty that could really tame a wild boy like Tonnyl! ^.^  
> Thank you so much for reading the first chapter, and I hope you'll come back for more!


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